Murphy’s volunteers, song

Francis Porter, singing in English
© Item in copyright  (contact for information on re-use)
Downloads: PDF |  Metadata (Dublin Core)


It was in the year of thirty nine in a place called London town
The German planes were circling and sending shrapnel down
Well Paddy he was tearing up the roads of England
John Murphy’s men were on the march with a pick axe in their hand.

Oh Murphy you’re the devil you’re leading me astray
We’re down the sewers of London town for fifty bob a day
My dear old heart is broken I’m sobbing bitter tears
I’ll tell you Pat it’s a hard oul’ craic with Murphy’s volunteers.

Come on come says Elephant John and swing that blessed pick
For this is no place for invalids, for cripples or the sick
Forget the Germans overhead sure they’re only playing about
So bend your back lads that the craic and dig those trenches out.

I think we’re daft says hook nose Jack to dig them here at all
I think you’re right says the Grey old White the man from Donegal
The mud down here is hard as rock  says cockney Joe McCloud
We’ll call the Germans down a while we’ll bomb the blaggard out.

One day the Horse Maloney found this German down the hole
Good day says Horse how do you do the German shouted heil
Well heil my eye says the Pig Molloy no more of your oul’ mouth
For you’re working for John Murphy now you’re digging trenches now.

John Murphy is a decent man that everybody knows
We’re very happy down the sewer and smelling like a rose
We like the porter strong and black the whiskey and the beer
You’ll get no prunes or caviar with Murphy’s volunteers.